


Meet In the Middle

by cinnalando



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnalando/pseuds/cinnalando
Summary: An exploration of Jean-Paul and Antonio's relationship in their VILE academy days.(The book gave us a lot, but we can go deeper)





	1. Outcove

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will basically be a bunch of chronological one-shots in chapters. I needed a break from my plot heavy Spider Verse fic and wanted to write some cute fun stuff. Hope you enjoy! Sorry if there are any translation errors; I do my best to get translation help from friends!

“Seems I finally found you,  _ mon ami _ ,” Jean-Paul says as he lowers himself into the small outcove he’s just discovered at the waterside. Waves crash just feet away at the shore, the water as blue as the summer sky, sparkling as they drift across crystal clean sand. Antonio sits at the back wall of the cave, chin resting on knees pulled up to his chest, his hair and hands covered in dirt. 

Jean-Paul crawls in and sits next to the man, their arms brushing. It’s much cooler down below the ground and out of the sun, with the ocean’s breeze drifting inside. 

“I assume you dug this yourself, mm?” He nudges his side. Antonio chuckles, inspecting his own palms. 

“ _ Sí _ . It is nice and cool, and dark.”

“Claustrophobic.”

“Cozy.” He smiles sideways. “Better with company.”

That earns a laugh from Jean-Paul. He shifts, adjusts himself into a more comfortable position against the dirt wall and into Antonio’s broad flank. 

“It is definitely better down here than in the sun. And there are no bitchy Americans down here either!” He chortles. Antonio tilts his head, unsure smile. 

“Do you mean Sheena? She is… not so bad.”

“Ah, even  _ you  _ don’t like her. I hope that means no more company down in this hideout. Three is a crowd, you know.” Jean-Paul rubs his nails with his thumb, flicking away dirt. He’d rather not have to deal with the company of any other classmates right now, and he would  _ especially  _ dislike it if they were to find this little cove. 

Black Sheep was decent- a bit of a little brat if he were being honest- a show off and scoundrel. Gray was bland like cardboard, extremely average besides his whiny voice. That weird redhead kid was creepy,  _ no thanks _ . To top it off, Sheena was just a massive bitch. There were some other dull classmates but Jean-Paul cared not for them in the least. 

Antonio, however, was the best there was; big and strong yet compassionate and so obliviously endearing. He appreciated nature even more so than Jean-Paul, just in his own unique way. It only took but a few days for he and Antonio to connect, like two magnets finally clicking. Call him selfish, he didn’t mind, but he wanted the man’s attention all to himself. 

Antonio shifts his weight, leans slightly more towards Jean-Paul to support him. 

“I did not intend for this cave to house two people in the first place.”

“Oh?”

“But I am glad you are here. I… did not really want to be alone right now.” He gazes wistfully at the ocean. “Your company is always welcome.”

“Of course it is! You couldn’t get rid of me, anyways. Say, what say we bring some cheese and wine down next time, hm? Perhaps a few candles, too, and some blankets. I will steal some of Sheena’s so we don’t have to get our own dirty,” he suggests. Antonio smiles softly. 

“Ah, maybe we can bring something healthier instead? Where would we even get wine?”

“We could-“

“Steal it, of course.”

Jean-Paul elbows him. “Put our training to use, mon ami! What, scared of getting caught?”

He is shoved away playfully. Antonio’s charmingly weird laughter bounces off the walls. 

“Of course not! We are an unstoppable team! I just fear the power of the cleaners, is all.” 

Jean-Paul crouches as low as he can in the small space, arms raised on each side. Antonio holds up his arms defensively, yelping in shock when Jean pounces at him. 

“Haha! And you are not wrong! Those two scare even me!” He exclaims. 

They tussle, a mess of thick and nimble limbs twisting and turning. Jean-Paul pulls Antonio’s right arm behind his back, his legs wrapped around his stomach from above. The thicker man grunts and flips them around with his brute strength, managing to pin Jean-Paul below him. He sits atop his stomach, big hands holding down skinny wrists. They pant, face to face, half laughing half breathing. 

Jean-Paul chuckles, noticing the way Antonio’s hair has somehow become dirtier. In fact, they both were covered in soil now, their beige uniforms stained with dark brown and black. 

He could escape, if so desired. Antonio’s weight is heavy where it rests on his hips, thick thighs pressed into his ribs, but he has left his upper body vulnerable for attack.

As much as he is enjoying their wrestling, it is  _ way  _ too small in this cave. He nods his head to the side. “You win, now get off me you big lug. I’m filthy.”

Antonio shuffles to his side, dropping down into his stomach with an  _ oomph.  _ They lie still, lazy and aimless. Saturday means no classes, so they have the entire day to ignore their homework and chill. 

Jean lifts a leg to press his foot into the ceiling, flinching when excess dirt falls directly into his eyes and mouth. He sputters, rolls to his side and swipes at his eyes. Beside him, Antonio watches in amusement. 

“How do you  _ enjoy  _ this?” He hisses, completely undignified. 

“Enjoy what?” Antonio flicks away a speck of dirt under his eye gently, the brief contact exhilarating. 

“Eating dirt. Being dirty. It’s gross.”

“I don’t eat- you think it’s gross?” He sounds slightly hurt, the fingers hovering above Jean-Paul’s wrist wavering.

He scoffs- “On  _ me,  _ yes,” then reaches over to pat his friend’s back reassuringly. “It fits you just fine. I admire the way you constantly smell like a freshly dug grave.”

Antonio smiles, but cringes. “That’s morbid.”

“Fine, like a musty forest.”

“Eh…”

“Like a pile of dirt, then!”

Antonio grins, rough fingertips resting on Jean’s exposed wrist. They’re calloused and filthy. 

“That’s okay.”

Jean-Paul clasps Antonio’s left hand between his own. 

“Let us shower then, hm? We can grab dinner before the line forms if we hurry.” At the thought, their stomachs growl, causing them to grin and laugh. Antonio pushes himself up, pulling Jean-Paul out of the cave by his hand.

“Careful,” he whispers under his breath, lifting Jean effortlessly over the small cliffside. 

The taller man pulls the shorter up after him, returning the favor from earlier by brushing dirt off his cheek once they’re both standing. Antonio shies away from the touch, cheeks dusted with blush under a layer of dirt. His eyes are trained on the ground. 

“L-Let us go,” he says, itching his cheek and pushing past. 

Jean-Paul follows, head filled with fireworks. 


	2. Climbing

“You can do it, _mon ami!_ ” Encouraging words are shouted down to his dear friend. At the foot of the rock climbing wall, Antonio crouches low to the ground and shakes his head, palms pressed flat against the polished floors. From the peak, he cannot hear his friend’s mumbling, but he sees the fear in his posture. 

It is agility class- something Antonio never truly does favor. Ground level obstacles do not phase the man, nor do slightly elevated platforms. Climbing the wall, though? Impossible. 

Coach Brunt stands to the side with her arms crossed over her chest, judging glare trained on the grounded man. She monitors the class with eyes akin to a drill sergeant's. 

“Climb the wall, groundhog, or it’s five hundred sit ups!” She bellows.

Antonio whimpers, refusing. “I’d rather do one  _ thousand _ than climb this death trap!” He hisses. 

The woman remains unimpressed. “Fine. One thousand sit-ups for  **_everyone_ ** if you don’t scoot your butt up that wall this instant.”

Surprised complaints echo from students all around the gymnasium, all eyes suddenly trained at the man who continues to shrink into himself. Jean-Paul frowns, glancing at his wristwatch timer. He’d rather help his friend than do one thousand sit-ups any day, even if that meant deducting his score. Nimble, and with the grace of a bird, he drops down from the wall right next to Antonio. 

The man flinches, hand flying protectively over his head as he glances up. Jean-Paul crouches down, providing a supportive pat on Antonio’s back. 

“That scared of heights?” He says softly. The man shakes his head. 

“Bad day,” he grunts. Jean-Paul hums, rubbing his back. It seems his friend is suffering from over-stimulation of the senses. It has only happened once before- though not during class, thankfully. 

“I see. Well, it’ll only get worse if you have the fury of several thieves on your back, so let’s climb this wall, okay? We’ll go nice and slow.  _ Together _ .” 

Antonio briefs a glance up at him, eyes glossy and brow pinched. He nods wordlessly. They get to their feet together, one of his hands under Antonio’s arm and the other gripping the wall. 

“Up you go,” he whispers soothingly. Antonio stares at the wall with the concentration of a bull as he climbs, knuckles white and teeth clenched. It takes an entire two minutes before they reach the top, and Antonio is pale and sweating bullets, but they’ve made it. They both press their hands into the scanner, marking their times, and begin the journey back down. 

Once they reach the floor, Antonio groans, shaky legs collapsing beneath him as soon as his feet hit solid ground. Jean-Paul squats next to him, hand on his shoulder. He looks terrible, vulnerable, it’s not a good look, not something others should see. He shields the man with his body, looking back over his shoulder. Most of the other students are too busy running their courses to peak. The silent kid watches them from afar, expression unreadable. Sheena, on the other hand, grins menacingly like a tiger after the kill, hands on her hips and chin held high. 

Jean-Paul glares at her.  _ I dare you _ , he mouths. She says nothing, simply flips her hair and struts away, her smug aura gag-worthy. He hates her. 

“I’m sorry.” Antonio’s mumble draws his attention. The man holds his head in his hands, ashamed. 

“Hey, you made it, didn’t you? Now come on, the rest is easy. I’ll be by your side the entire time.” He offers his hand and his best supportive smile. Antonio accepts, allowing himself to be hoisted to his feet. Their hands stay connected for a moment, bodies close. 

Jean-Paul leans in and whispers, “ _ None of those idiots compare to you, Antonio. Prove me right _ .” 

~

Agility class ends early into the night, just when the sun begins its descent. Students file out of the class after a closing speech from Brunt. All except for one. 

“Jean-Paul, a  _ moment _ .” That southern accent cuts through the air. Eyes land on said named man, whom of which remains unfazed, nose turned upwards. Antonio hesitates by his side but he shoos him away, nodding. 

_ I’ll be fine, you get out of here,  _ he thinks. 

Jean-Paul stands straight before Coach Brunt. She is a large, intimidating woman with the strength of an ox. She is not someone he wishes to anger.

“Yes ma’am?” He asks, alert. He has not yet been punished in his time at the academy, and he does not wish to find out what exactly punishment ensues at a school for criminals. 

She uncrosses her arms, hands falling into her pockets. Her look is empathetic, but firm. 

“He’s only going to drag you down,” she says, and  _ ouch _ that hurts a little _.  _ His eyebrow twitches. 

“With all due respect, Coach, I do not agree.”

She laughs, but it’s not friendly. “Oh, is that so? Then care to tell me why your scores are significantly lower whenever you two are paired together?”

“I-“

“And that embarrassing display earlier on the rock climbin’ wall? In the real world you’d have been taken down with him in a second. Sure, we work together, but when it comes down to it thievery is ‘every man for himself,’ and you, sir, need to man up.”

Jean-Paul lowers his head. Even he is powerless to her utterly crushing presence. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says dutifully. Despite the raging fires within his chest, his voice is steady and obedient. 

“Good. As long as you understand, you’re free to go. I expect more of you, soldier. Goodnight.”

Jean-Paul exits the gymnasium with a snarling frown and fingernails digging into his palms. How  _ dare she.  _ How dare she insult Antonio like that. The man has one bad day and she acts as if he is anything but unqualified, as though he is lesser than. He will show her. He will be by Antonio’s side as long as he thieves, and they will be the best pair of criminals she has ever seen. She will be proven wrong. 

Outside the classroom is none other than his best friend himself. Unexpectedly by his side are Black Sheep and Gray, both perking up at the sound of doors slamming. Black Sheep is the first to run up to him. 

“Did she yell at you? Did she make you do something? Are you o-“

“Hey now, let's give him a moment, aye?” Gray interjects, pulling her back. She nudges him off, pouting, but is in no way upset. Jean-Paul stands by Antonio’s side, his hands relaxing a fraction at the light contact of their arms brushing. He pointedly raises his chin. 

“Hmph! It was nothing. She simply expects me to bend to her will is all. As if I am not the most agile student in the class.”

Sheep grumbles. Gray ruffles her hair. 

Antonio sighs. “It was my fault, wasn’t it? You shouldn’t have assisted me.”

Jean-Paul opens his mouth to object, but is cut off by the other pair of thieves. 

“Absolutely not!” They both yell. Gray clears his throat. “Sorry, just, uh,  _ no _ \- I was  _ not _ about to do one thousand sit-ups.”

“Yeah, and she would have made everyone do it, too! Not even an exaggeration,” Black Sheep adds. Scary as it is, he trusts her on that. 

“It’s not your fault,  Antonio ; there is no shame in helping a friend,” he claims, wrapping his arm around Antonio’s broad shoulders. The man shrugs, dropping it at that, obviously not convinced. 

The four thieves walk back to the dorms together. Black Sheep and Gray provide most of the conversation, the girl jumping around here and there, completely animated and full of energy, Gray indulging her in her antics with a tired smile. 

Jean-Paul keeps his arm around Antonio, holding him supportively. He hopes his friend knows he is in no way a burden, knows that he is the best damn thing on this island. If not? He will help him understand.


	3. Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretend this is good and wasnt written in a half awake state

 

“Psst, wake up, mi amigo.”

What was it, like, 4:00 AM? Hell no. 

“ _ Jean _ .” 

And who the fuck was shaking his shoulder?

Begrudgingly, Jean-Paul cracks open his eyes, eyelids heavy like stones. Inches away from his face is Antonio’s own, somehow already covered in dirt and small scratches. He is shining brighter than the morning sun. Too bright. Jean blinks, moans, and rolls over. 

“Lemme sleep,” he mumbles, already drifting back off. 

“Nope!” 

The bed is suddenly ripped out from under him- or, was he ripped off of _ it _ ? It’s hard to tell when he’s in a state of panic, shock, and sleep all at the same time. His yell is muffled by a large hand covering his mouth- hand covered in dirt. Ew.

Once they’re out of the shared bedroom— Jean in Antonio’s arms bridal style— the hand is removed from his mouth. He spits, gasps for air, and spits again, the lower half of his face now covered in grime. Antonio does not look the least bit sorry as he continues his trot down the halls. Jean stares and him, baffled and offended. 

“What in the hell do you think you are doing?!” He whisper-yells. The man, absolute bastard he is, just snickers and continues jogging. Jean sits in his arms at loss of what to do as he’s transported, arms crossed and face pinched. Dim hallway lights buzz above them. 

“The bags under my eyes were doing just fine, thank you, no need to assist them in their growth!” He hisses. 

“Oh shush, you’ll like this,” Antonio silences him. It’s still pitch black outside, only a faint glow from the sliver of the moon lighting their way as Antonio treks across the field and to the beach. It’s brisk and damp outside. As soon as they reach the shore a gust of wind hits them and it wakes Jean-Paul up just enough for him to realize where they are. 

It’s the outcove from just a few weeks ago, except this time different. There are candles in lanterns, blankets, pillows, and even a bottle of wine. But the most noticeable fact was the  _ size.  _ The cave was at least two times bigger since the last time Jean was here, and it looked… kind of welcoming. 

“Ah Ah Ah, NO,” he says, scrambling to cling to Antonio’s neck as the man begins to lower him down. “You dragged me out here in my night clothes with no shoes on. I am  _ not _ stepping one foot onto anything that is not a blanket.”

Antonio laughs, readjusting Jean in his arms. 

“Fine.”

He walks into the outcove and sits against the back wall, pillows and blankets covering every corner. Jean ends up falling into his lap. He sighs, defeated, and accepts his fate.

Antonio pushes him to the side and crawls over to the bottle of wine, pulling back a comforter as he returns to Jean’s side. He hands the bottle to him, smile wide. 

Jean-Paul lifts a brow. 

“Wine? At four AM?” 

Antonio blinks, as if just now realizing the error in his ways. 

“Oh, um, you don’t have to drink it, I just thought-“

“Idiot, of course I’m going to drink it.” He slaps Antonio’s shoulder. “Who did you get this from?”

“I uh, stole it from Miss Cleo.”

Jean swallows, coughs, and bangs his chest. “ _ That’s _ probably why it is so good. Well done,  _ mon ami! _ ”

He pulls him into a side hug and kisses his cheek, laughing.

“To steal from a council member, oh the bravery! I am so…” he trails off, gazing down at his friend.  _ Proud of you. Enamored by you. Utterly awestruck. “ _ Impressed.” There is a warm flare in his gut, and it’s definitely not from the wine. 

Antonio scratches his nose, turning his cheek. 

“Ah, well, I figured you would like it. Sorry for waking you up so early, though, I just didn’t want us to get caught.”

Jean nuzzles his nose into Antonio’s hair affectionately. 

“Of  _ course _ I love it. I love all that you do, even if it is waking me up before the sun exists.” The man beside him huffs, fingers linked together on his lap. 

Jean takes a swig of the wine then holds it out. Antonio declines politely. The Frenchman shrugs and continues drinking. 

Comforting silence fills the cave as Jean-Paul nurtures the wine, arm slung around Antonio’s shoulders. The stars blink in the ocean’s reflection of the night sky. It is a beautiful sight. Maybe he should take up early morning jogging. Would Antonio join him?

“The blankets. Where did you get them?” He asks. They're awfully comfortable- much better than the ones in their cots. 

“Oh, I actually asked Black Sheep to help with that. She got them for me, said they were from her old room.”

“Ew?”

“They’re washed, mi amigo.”

He snorts, presses his face back into the man’s soft fluffy hair. “And you are not. Why are you always so filthy? Have you nothing better to do than play in the dirt?” 

“I like the Earth. I feel safe down here- much safer below than above. Though I do wish I weren’t so afraid of heights.”

Jean places the bottle of wine aside, turning on his side so he can wrap himself around Antonio. Like a big teddy bear, he was. 

“I’ll take you hiking someday…” he mumbles. “But now, I am going to sleep.” 

Antonio goes rigid beside him, a hesitant arm finding its place around his back. He is dirty and firm and  _ such _ the perfect pillow. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll wake you up in a bit, then.” 

“Mm.”

Jean-Paul falls into a light sleep, hyper aware of how Antonio slowly relaxes into him, his breathing and the crashing of waves serving as calming ambience. The ocean is dark, save for the reflection of the moon and stars. Out here on VILE isle, the sky is beautiful to stare at, no matter the time of day. 

 

By the time Jean-Paul awakens feeling well rested-  _ too  _ well rested- the sky is cheery blue and the sun is up and out of sight. He lifts his head and looks up at the face of his human pillow. Antonio is sleeping as well. 

Their limbs are in a mess of entanglement, it being mostly Jean’s fault, and he notices the prominent weight of hand holding his hip. It seems moving any further would only serve to wake his friend, so he settles back into his hold. 

Sure, Antonio might flip a little when he realizes they’re missing their classes, but one day of hooky never hurt anyone. He would let the man sleep- and definitely not because he was selfish. No, not at all. 

Sighing, he wraps his arms around his friend’s broad middle and nuzzles into his chest, his legs wrapped around Antonio’s shorter ones. 

Instead of sleeping, he basks in the moment, the crashing of waves, the comfort of Autumn air, the soft breathing of Antonio, scent of dirt and all. Jean-Paul finds he has grown to love the smell. 


	4. Hiking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a hiatus, am I right?  
> But season 2 is coming out soon and I am excited, so here's more.

“It is just a small ledge, Antonio! You can do it; I believe in you!” 

Antonio stands below him at the foot of a wall, his gray eyes glaring up at Jean-Paul. The man’s lips are pulled into a pout, arms crossed at his chest. 

“You said we would be going hiking, not climbing up the side of a mountain!”

Jean laughs, leaning over the edge and extending his arm. “It is not  _ nearly _ a mountain,  _ mon ami _ . Just one wall and that’s it! Come on, stop stalling.”

Antonio huffs stubbornly, then warily steps towards the wall and begins to scale it. He is unsteady at first, lost as to where the indents are, but eventually he steels himself and reaches the top. Jean’s offer of assistance is ignored. 

Once on the top, the man immediately shuffles away from the edge and onto safer ground, mumbling complaints as he does. 

The plan today had been to take Antonio hiking along a favored path. Also on the menu was some friendly sparring, light flirting, and maybe sneaking in another kiss on the cheek if he was lucky. The way Antonio blushed at any hint of affection was too good a show to pass up. Now he just had to survive the rest of the trip, which shouldn’t be too bad. 

“Let us make haste! No more scaling from here, I swear.”

He pulls Antonio to his feet and leads him further up the path. The forestry is healthy and vivid, the air cool and refreshing. It reminds Jean of his rock climbing days, where up in the sky the air was thin and pure, just a man and nature. 

“It’s actually kind of nice up here,” Antonio comments. He stands close by Jean-Paul’s side, eyes traveling around the trail in wonder. Leaves as big as themselves hang above, providing shade. 

“Imagine how much nicer it is thousands of feet up!” Jean exclaims, throwing his hands to the sky. Nothing beats the view from the peak of a mountain. There is no other feeling quite like the adrenaline one feels when he has only his skill to keep him alive on the rocky mountainside.

Antonio’s head tilts curiously. “Is that why you climb? For the view?” 

They duck under a low branch in the trail. Jean-Paul flicks a wet leaf, humming. 

“I climb for the  _ thrill _ . I feel happier the higher I am. There is a freedom to escaping the Earth’s clutches, wouldn’t you say?” He grins, knowing his friend believes the exact opposite. Antonio smiles back but shakes his head. 

“I’m fond of the Earth, actually. There is security in the ground, a bond with nature. Everything we have comes from the soil. I’m sure you knew that, though.”

“Well aware, my friend. I  _ am  _ the best rock climber in the world. Have I told you that?”

“You briefly mentioned it when we first met.”

“Yes, I remember. I mean it, though; no one loves it more than I do.” He spares a glance at his friend, smirking. “But it just got so boring. There was no  _ challenge.  _ Not enough  _ danger.  _ I needed something new in my life.”

Frogs and insects croak and chirp around them. Their music fills the air. They are almost at the end of the trail. 

Antonio continues trekking, silent. Jean grabs his wrist gently, asking for his attention.

“I never really thought to appreciate the Earth in the way you do, Antonio.” The man’s eyes widen. “Thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” He sputters. His cheeks darken, eyebrows high and mouth agape, truly surprised. Jean-Paul offers the cheekiest grin he can. 

“For accompanying me on this hike, of course! We have reached the end, I hope it does not disappoint!” He claps his shoulder and trots away to the destination. Before them is a small pond surrounded by rocks, covered in shade, and completely hidden from view. As far as he knows, only he is aware it exists. Well, now Antonio is, too. 

The muscular man pads into the clearing, amazed. “Whoa,” he mutters, spinning as he inspects the area. Jean stands proud on a rock as he watches his friend explore. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Antonio grins at him, the most cheerful he’s been on this trip. 

“Yes! It is beautiful! Like something you see out of a movie.” He joins Jean-Paul on the rock, arms out on his sides for balance. They inhale the crisp air, shoulder to shoulder, taking in the moment. It’s perfect weather outside. If they were to believe hard enough, it was almost as if they were not on an island for criminals, rather, a tropical paradise. 

“What do you say we take a dip?” Jean suggests, taking no time to throw his shirt off. 

“Oh, okay,” is all Antonio says as he watches. 

The Frenchman strips himself of his pants, purposely bending away in an unnecessary matter, laughing internally at the choked cough from Antonio. 

“Are you not going to join me?” He asks, kicking his clothes onto a dry stone and stretching his arms over his head. His friend chuckles nervously, eyes downcast. 

“I’m not a big fan of swimming, actually,” he admits. 

“Well, not to fear,” he begins, then tackles Antonio into the pond with a shout, “ _ Because it is shallow _ !”

The other man screams as he’s dunked into the cold water, arms clutching onto Jean-Paul in a deathly bear trap. They sink to the bottom but emerge seconds later in a fit of splashing and coughing. The pond is roughly only five feet deep, so they both stand with their heads well above the surface. Nevertheless, Antonio glares angrily at Jean-Paul.

“You ass! I am still wearing my uniform!” 

Jean snickers and shifts into a fighting stance. 

“Then you’d better lay them to dry while you still can!”

Antonio lunges for him, shouting, but Jean easily evades him by diving under and kicking past. He swims to the water’s edge to a tall rocky wall with the perfect indents for climbing, and begins scaling. 

When he looks back down over his shoulder, Antonio is stripping himself on the rocks, grumbling and delicately laying his clothes out in a sunny patch. Water clings to his rippling, tan back muscles, and his hair falls in the same way it does after a shower- to the side and over his forehead. Jean-Paul swallows. He definitely needed a closer look, and maybe get his paws on some of that action. 

“Catch me,  _ mon ami! _ ” He shouts, kicking off the wall and into the air. For a moment, he soars. It is a feeling akin to bungee jumping or skydiving, but worlds above because he is bare and weightless. Antonio squawks and makes the dive to catch his friend. He lands in the man’s strong arms and they, yet again, sink into the pond. 

Below, Jean-Paul opens his eyes against the chilling water. Antonio is already glaring at him, unimpressed with his spontaneity. He’s dangerously adorable when mad. 

Jean grins, oxygen bubbles seeping through his teeth and towards the surface. After an intense underwater staring battle, they both stand, meeting again at the surface. Antonio flips his hair back, not unlike a mermaid. Although, instead of singing a luring song, he yells. 

“ _ Eres un idiota imprudente!  _ What if I could not catch you? You would have gotten hurt!” He splashes Jean, angry. 

“But you did!” Jean responds as sincerely as he can. Antonio pouts, sagging into the water. There is something deeper in his expression, something serious. 

“That might not always be the case,” he mumbles. 

Jean crouches lower, too, eye to eye with his best friend, and beams. 

“I have no doubt you will always be supporting me from below,  _ mon chérie. _ ”

“Oh,” Antonio says. Jean-Paul winks, clapping his shoulder. 

“And I, of course, will always be looking out for you from above.” 

~

After spending the rest of the day swimming and sunbathing, the two students hike back to the academy. It is a weekend well spent in Jean-Paul’s eyes, even if he did not chance a kiss. Simply put, this man brings a happiness into his life that he wasn’t aware existed.

Time spent with Antonio is more valuable than  _ any _ artifact they may end up stealing.  


	5. Strength

Jean-Paul is a strong man. Rock climbing required a great deal of muscles and stamina, not to mention agility, quick-thinking, and adaptability. 

Despite all this, the man never found himself fond of any fighting classes,  _ especially  _ not hand-to-hand combat with Shadowsan and Coach Brunt. This was a joint class, meaning both council members taught, and there was a larger number of students attending than usual. 

Per the norm, Jean stands by Antonio in the back, their knuckles resting against each other comfortably. Black Sheep stands in the front a few rows ahead next to Gray, who acts as a wall between the girl and Sheena. The quiet redhead stands to Antonio’s left. Jean assumes the mute man does not want to be near the rowdy three at the front, either, but desires familiarity in a fellow roommate. He is definitely weird, but Jean-Paul has nothing against him personally. 

Coach Brunt steps forward after Shadowsan finishes explaining the exercise. They were to pair up into three’s and work on their technique, blah blah. Jean rolls his eyes. 

“We’ll be watchin’ you while you fight so remember: no excessive rough housing, and no blood! You’re not at that stage yet.” She finishes with an evil smirk. Unsure laughter floats amongst the trainees. 

“Now go! Work on that fancy step Shadowsan so kindly showed y’all.”

Jean turns to his left with crossed arms, brow raised. “I assume you want to pair with us, Monsieur Muet?” 

The man nods, unable to reciprocate eye contact. Jean sighs, but waves him over to where Antonio has already claimed a spot in the gym. The burrower greets the quiet kid with a small smile and a nod. 

“Who shall go first, hm?” Jean asks, clapping his hands together. 

The step Shadowsan demonstrated had been an evasive/defensive maneuver where Person A, the attacker, throws a jab at Person B, the defender. Person B is to dodge the punch, take out the knee, grab their arm, and slam them to the ground. 

“I will,” Antonio volunteers. He steps onto the yoga mat, cracking his knuckles. Jean spares a glance at their silent classmate and huffs. 

“Fine. I will go as well. You defend first, Antonio, see if you can outspeed me,” Jean says. He takes his place in front of Antonio on the mat and cracks his neck. 

“I won’t need to,” Antonio chuckles. 

Jean lifts his fists and bounces, his stance open and loose. They circle around each other slowly, testing the waters with light punches and kicks. Jean feigns a left kick and goes in for the strike to the gut. He lands it, and for a moment he thinks he has bested his friend, but suddenly there is a deathly grip on his wrist and the world spins as he’s slammed into the ground. 

“ _ Augh! _ ” He cries as his back collides with the mat. All breath is knocked out of him and he wheezes. Is it supposed to hurt that much? Or was his friend just not aware of his own strength? 

Antonio stands above him, worried yet amused smile on his face. He holds out a hand. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. Jean grunts and accepts the help. He is pulled to his feet swiftly, as though weightless. He rubs his back, wincing. 

“I am fine, but  _ fuck  _ that hurt. You do not know your own strength,  _ mon chérie,”  _ he groans. The quiet kid looks at him quizzically. 

“I  _ do _ know my own strength,” Antonio laughs. “I am  _ very _ strong.” Jean-Paul squawks as the world spins yet again and he finds himself dipped low, hovering just inches above the ground, eyes wide and face to face with his friend. Antonio‘s smile is dark. 

“And I am _much_ _faster_ than you think, _mi amigo._ ”

Jean-Paul blushes for the first time since he’s been on the island. Words lodge in his throat. A choir sounds from somewhere deep in his mind. This is the first time he truly realizes that  _ yes,  _ Antonio is a criminal just like him, has ultimate desires just like him, aspires to wreak havoc just like him. 

_ And if that isn’t the hottest thing in the world… _

He is pulled back to his feet wordlessly, sparing only a cough into his hand as he attempts to regain his composure. Antonio stands smugly aside. The silent one watches with an observatory frown. 

“I will defend now,” he mutters, still fighting back the blush on his cheeks and uproar between his ears. 

~

Hand-to-hand combat drags on for Jean-Paul. Between the hawk-like supervision from Coach Brunt and Shadowsan, and the several bruises forming on his body, the clock seems to be taking its sweet old time. 

Fighting Antonio is one thing; he’s not just all brute strength, he’s adaptive and innovative in his fighting in a way that always takes Jean by surprise, no matter how much he thinks he knows the man. It’s fun to spar him (and an excuse to get his paws all over the merchandise).

But the quiet kid? What a disaster to fight. The man evades every attack perfectly to the point of barely retaliating. On the rare chance he  _ does _ manage to strike back, his attacks always end up just an inch away from contact, as though he’s afraid to land the hit. This frustrates Jean-Paul to the point of tackling the man to the ground in rage, then having to be pulled off him seconds later by Antonio. They do not pair up again after that. 

 

Coach Brunt decides to spectate their group sometime into the exercises, and currently watches as Antonio slams the redhead into the ground. Her smile is dark and proud; she must recognize his strength and respect it as a musclehead herself.

“Nice work, groundhog,” she praises. 

Jean internally scoffs.  _ It’s about time.  _

Their eyes meet. He lifts his nose, as if to challenge her. She says nothing, but her nod and raised brow speaks for itself; she has recognized his worth. 

Antonio pulls the kid to his feet, patting him on the shoulder with an apologetic smile before turning to Coach Brunt. 

“Thank you, Coach,” he says, hair a mess and grin wide. She offers her own smile of approval, almost motherly, then moves on to a nearby group. Jean skips over to his friend and claps his back. 

“Well done,  _ mon chou!  _ You truly excel when it comes to fighting! I will wear these bruises proudly!” 

“Thank you,  _ mi amigo _ .”


	6. Silence

 

It’s night time and a small group of VILE students sit in a corner of the library. Textbooks of all kinds are scattered everywhere, along with notebooks, highlighters, pencils, and various other study tools. There are several technical tests tomorrow in Doctor Bellum, Professor Maelstrom, and Countess Cleo’s classes. Yeah, all three in one day. They don’t hold back. 

Jean-Paul sits perched atop a book rack, mindlessly flipping through a pamphlet about wires and circuit boards. Below him, Antonio, Black Sheep, and the quiet kid (Jean-Paul has decided to dub him  _ Le Muet _ ) huddle around a book that contains information on the psychology of fear. 

“Ugh, this totally sucks! I thought this was a school for thieves, not middle schoolers!” Sheena whines. 

“Really? With you around I often forget this  _ isn’t  _ grade school,” Jean replies. He ducks his head to the left as a sharp pencil flies by, not even bothering to look away from his reading. Black Sheep giggles. Antonio sighs. 

“Come on mates, keep it civil,” Gray says. He is seated next to Sheena at a table, hair pulled back into a tight bun and coffee in hand. He and the girl have been agonizing over a worksheet from Cleo’s relic class for hours. 

“Man, this is killer! At least Doctor Bellum’s test won’t be so bad,” the Aussie mumbles. 

“Easy for you to say; you are an electrician!” Jean grumbles, throwing his head back. 

Antonio joins in. “And I do not understand even  _ half  _ of Maelstrom’s teachings!”

“I don’t think anyone does,” Black Sheep adds. They all moan. With that small break of banter, they begrudgingly return to studying. 

Jean-Paul leans back so his head is resting on the metal of the cart, one arm hanging off the edge and one holding the pamphlet over his face. His fingertips rest on Antonio’s fluff of white hair, mindlessly tracing circuit patterns into his scalp as he reads. 

_ PCB’s have layers. Silkscreen, soldermask, copper, substrate. FR4 is the base material, usually fiberglass. Blah blah blah, further on, something about copper and adhesives, more pointless facts, something something wires something something board.  _

Jean sighs, exhausted, and closes his eyes. His hand, along with his guide, rests on his chest. The circuit patterns morph into mindless swirls as Jean plays with Antonio’s hair between his fingers. The man does not seem to mind so far. Jean-Paul takes a moment to listen to the conversation around him. 

“So the biochemical response is…?”

“Universal.”

“Okay. Then that makes the emotional response individual.”

“Yup!”

“It is a matter of fight or flight versus circumstance.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“What part are you confused about?”

…

“Um. I don’t…”

“Can you point to the words to form a sentence?”

…

“No?”

… 

“Do you know sign language?”

…

“That’s not American Sign Language, is it? Nah, I didn’t think so. I only know ASL.”

“I do not know  _ any _ sign language, sorry.”

The dim light above Jean-Paul fades after a small bout of shuffling and whispers. He cracks open his eyes slightly. Black Sheep leans over him, her smile childish and innocent. 

“Hi, Jean-Paul,” she says. 

“Hello, Black Sheep,” he replies. “What do you want?”

She grins, bouncing back and away from the book rack. Like this, she resembles a kid asking their older sibling for a favor, her hands held behind her back and her legs crossed. 

“You’re French! Do you know any French sign language? Our friend here needs some help!” She nods towards the silent one who sits with his head turned, red hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. 

Jean-Paul ponders the request, wonders if this is worth his time or not. Antonio flicks his dangling hand sharply, earning a small hiss. Jean rolls his eyes stubbornly. 

“Yes,  _ fine _ , I do know a  _ little.  _ Go on,” he says. 

_ Le Muet  _ anxiously turns his body to Jean, hands shaking as he signs his question. This is the most verbal anyone has ever seen him, and the tax it’s taking shows.  

Jean watches with a snotty scowl. Were he a different man, like Antonio, maybe he would have showed some sympathy to his classmate’s very apparent anxiety. But he’s Jean-Paul, self proclaimed asshole, so he doesn’t. His classmate finishes his signing and his hands fall back into his lap, hunched over and eyes to the ground. 

Jean rolls the translation around in his head, tongue pressed to his cheek in thought. 

“ _Can we review the section covering hypnosis and brainwashing?_ ” He asks, his words directed at _Le_ _Muet_ himself. It’s not _exactly_ what he signed, but Jean has read that chapter of the book before, and knows this is what the redhead was referring to in his question. The man nods and looks up at him. His eyes are strikingly pale. 

_ Thank you _ , he signs. 

Jean-Paul scoffs and turns away. Could he not have simply just pointed to his desired reading section? Or written a note? Such a pathetic nuisance does not belong in an academy for criminals. Jean-Paul wishes not to befriend him. 

Black Sheep and Antonio continue their dialogue after a concerning pause. Jean does not miss the way Antonio has leaned forward and out of his reach. His fingers twitch. 

It is a small detail, so miniscule and unnoticeable to the others, but Jean feels it. The sudden tension between him and Antonio. It weighs down on him, like several tons of cement crushing his chest. 

The Frenchman stares up at the bookshelves, their stature reaching up at least forty feet high. Up there he is sure that concentration will come to him and he will not be asked for any more pointless assistance. The drowning feeling will dissipate up there, alone and safe on high ground, above sea-level.

Without a word, he slips his notes between his teeth, stands on the shaky book rack, and begins his ascent. 

It is a brisk climb, easy with consistent rows to grab, although he has to be mindful not to kick off any books. Once he reaches the top, he feels wide awake. Despite the thin layer of dust, it’s much nicer. The lights shine brighter and the air is way cooler. Plus? The noise is next to nonexistent. Now  _ this  _ is his element; he should study up here more often. 

Chancing a peek over the edge, he sees his classmates all staring up at him, eyes wide- all except Antonio, who frowns with crossed arms and a heavy glare. 

_ Uh oh.  _

So he  _ wasn’t  _ imagining the pressure choking him after all. The revelation is not exactly relieving.  _ That  _ was a confrontation he was not looking forward to having later. 

Settling back into his little nook, he sighs, eyes glued to the ceiling.  _ Great _ — now he was dealing with the guilt of disappointing his best friend. Did Antonio actually  _ like  _ that silent weirdo? His friend was softer personality wise, obviously, but surely he must recognize this is no place for the weak _ ,  _ no?

“ _ Merde. _ ” Jean curses under his breath. The pamphlet in his hand feels heavier as he opens it and continues reading. Why must everything be so  _ heavy?  _  It takes all his concentration not to dwell on the dreadful weight in his gut. 

~

Later that night, when the academy has turned in and fallen into slumber, Jean-Paul decides to tire himself out before residing to the room, lest he lie awake in bed restless all night. 

By now he knows every inch and crevice on the walls and roofs of the buildings so he scales them with ease. There is no moon tonight, hidden by clouds, so he climbs with only a dim green light to assist him. This is no challenge. 

Atop one of the lower buildings is a familiar female figure with short red hair. She sits on the edge of the rooftop, knees drawn to her chest. It appears she is speaking softly to herself. Jean-Paul is no eavesdropper— at least, not off the job— so he alerts her to his presence with a cough and scuff of his shoes against the pavement. 

Not unlike a real sheep, Black Sheep startles, scrambling to pocket something and face her company. Caught in the headlights she stands, but Jean means no harm. He holds up his hands passively. 

“Sorry to bother you,  _ petit mouton.  _ I am simply a passerby,” he says. She relaxes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“It’s okay, I just didn’t hear you. I was, uh, practicing— my Chinese. Singing. My Chinese singing.” She stumbles with her words. It’s a lousy excuse that he sees straight through. Nevertheless, he plays along, walking over to the roof’s edge and taking a seat. She is hesitant, but sits next to him. 

“Do you come up here often?” He asks. Black Sheep kicks her legs in the air, back and forth, swaying side to side. 

“Umm. No?” A lie. Jean chuckles. 

With her childlike charm he has always wonders how old she is. When asked before, the girl had denied an answer, but she  _ must _ be just under 18. He suspects he is at least three or four years older than her. Were he not so gruff, perhaps he could see her as a kid sister just as Gray does. Antonio definitely regards her in the same way. 

Jean does find himself just a  _ tad _ fond of the girl. Fondness by proximity, he supposes.

“Can I ask you something?” Black Sheep blurts out. 

“Yes.”

“Why are you so mean to the quiet kid? He hasn’t done anything to you.”

Jean-Paul frowns. 

“Unlike most of you, I’m not here to make friends. What does a thief have to earn by playing nice?”

Black Sheep eyes him. It seems she has much to say, but she treads carefully with her next words. 

“You’re nice to  _ Antonio _ . And sometimes you’re nice to me and Gray. I understand hating Sheena, but why him?”

“I was not expecting to be interrogated tonight,” he laughs softly. Black Sheep watches him from the corner of her eye. He sighs. “I am not a good person, Black Sheep. You will find that most of the people on this island are not.”

“ _ I’m _ a good person. So is Gray. Antonio. The quiet kid. Talia. Mateo. Neal. Coach Brunt. I could go on.”

He snorts. “No need to rub it in.” 

Black Sheep shrugs. “Just sayin’. We’re kind of like a family, don’t you think? We only have each other, really.”

_ A family.  _

Jean-Paul rolls his neck, then pushes himself to his feet. 

He’s run his mouth enough for one night, plus he has no fitting response to give the girl. 

As he begins to leave, he pauses, turning his head slightly. 

Black Sheep doesn’t quite seem to understand the ulterior motives of her fellow peers, their true goals. As much as he tries not to get attached to people, he would feel bad were she to be led astray. He thinks of Antonio’s evil grin in class, of Gray’s sinister laughter under Doctor Bellum’s influence, and of Coach Brunt’s soul-crushing aura. 

No, these are not good people.

“Just… be careful who you trust,” he mumbles, then hops down and out of sight. For a moment he stills, leaning against the wall listening, but does not hear Black Sheep’s voice over the distant crashing of waves and buzzing of generators. Perhaps she is taking his lesson to heart. 

As Jean-Paul strolls on the path back to the dorms, he repeats Black Sheep’s words to himself. “ _ A good person, hm?” _ Does a truly good person even exist?  

Not on VILE isle, certainly. 


End file.
